The Journal of One, Leon Orcot
by CrossedScarsX
Summary: Leon's been on the road a long time. He needs to remember everything. He needs to discover everything. *Contains End of Manga Spoilers*
1. March 30, 1999

A/N: I've never written and PSOH fic before. I've also never finished one, as many who read my fics have noticed. This one, however is very special to me.

This story is dedicated to Skye Lynn Budnick. She is one of my best friends. Two and a half years ago, she flew off to Japan, and we never heard from her again, despite a nation wide search. Like me, she was a avid fan of Pet Shop of Horrors. She had a special fondness for Count D and Leon. I'd like to think she's gone off, after her own 'D'.

Because of this, the canonical account of Leon's journey to find Count D strikes a chord with me. I feel like I can relate to Leon's feelings at the end of the manga. Lately, I've been thinking of Skye more and more, and believe me: If I had the money and the means, I'd chase after her.

Wherever she is, I hope she is happy and that I will see her again.

~CrossedScarsX

_**The Journal of One, Leon Orcot. **_

_**March 30, 1999**_

_I've never kept a journal before. It always struck me as something only girls and self-important, snooty intellectuals do, to somehow reinforce their own existence and self-worth, or to wallow in self-pity. I've never had the patience for either practice. People always seemed surprised by that. As a homicide detective, most think that the only way I'd keep my own sanity is to write in a journal. To be honest, I found that my own police reports were enough of a journal to keep my thoughts organized. _

_Actually, I wonder how effective a detective is if he can't put down the important stuff in the actual reports, and has to go and wrestle with his emotional demons in a personal diary. Yeah, my reports were enough. If I needed to reference it, it was all waiting for me in the case files. Say what you want about me, but you won't find a man alive who could fault my reports. I was always incredibly thorough._

_So, I bet you're wondering what I'm doing now, writing in a journal of my very own? I can see the confusion. You'll notice that my reflective passages above are written in the past-tense. Yeah, I'm no longer "Detective Leon Orcot." Now I'm just Leon Orcot. I've become a world drifter, or something like that. Most would probably just write me off as a bum. I definitely look the part, lately. You see, I've been on the road for two years. I am alone. I haven't spoken with my family in all this time. I've thought about contacting my little brother, Chris, a few times...but every time I can't get myself to write that letter, or make that phone call. _

_So, since I can't get myself to write home, and I no longer have the comfort of a good police report to file, I find myself writing my thoughts in this old notebook that I found by a dumpster. It was lying on top of a pile of junk that looked like the result of some kid's mother, who, disgusted by the state of his or her room, has cleared out indiscriminate piles and tossed 'em outside. _

_Something about this little cheap spiral notebook caught my attention, so I picked it up, and finding it to be in not so horrible condition, I packed it in my knapsack. That was three days ago._

_I'm hoping that this notebook will be my new 'case reports'. Only now I'm documenting my journey. _

_I guess this is where I start talking about WHY I'_m_ traveling the globe. I'm trying to return something to a man named Count D. Actually, I don't know his name. Count D was his Grandfathers title...but I guess it doesn't matter. It's the only name I have. _

_Ok...I think I'm going to treat this next part like an actual case file. This prose thing is making me feel like some sappy poet. Ok: _

_Case file: Count D (real name unknown)_

_Occupation: Pet shop manager, of 'Count D's Pet Shop'_

_Living Relations: Grandfather...and...um, Father? Kid? Thing? There's two of em. (And they're identical. All three of 'em)_

_Last Known Location: Los Angeles, CA, USA  
_

_Mode of Transport.: A flying ship. Yep, that sounds completely reasonable. _

_My history with the Count:_

_...it's complicated. _

_I'll write more later. It's too long for one entry._


	2. April 3, 1999

_April 3, 1999_

_Ok, so it's been a few days since the first entry. I wasn't being lazy about writing, promise. I actually started writing a couple of times since then, but like I said before: There's a lot to write. So, I tore out the newer entries. This is like a final draft of those earlier ones, I guess._

_Right. So...My history with Count D. _

_God that sounds like a bad high school essay title. _

_I met Count D four years ago, when I was still a homicide detective with the LAPD. I noticed a trend of unusual deaths where all the victims were connected to the the Count's pet shop in Chinatown. By unusual, I mean deaths that looked like wild animals mauled the victims. Or sometimes no apparent cause of death at all. It was the second type that actually got me into D's shop. It was the case of Robin Hendrix. _

_Hendrix died. Just died. No reason. No drugs, no poisons, no physical wounds of any kind. The only witness to it was a rare lizard, which was also dead. Count D said the lizard was a "basilisk". It could kill someone by simply looking at them. Which is totally believable if you take stock in Greek myths. Then he spun a tale of a lovers' suicide. It was absurd. _

_Count D always insisted that he only ever told me the truth, even when it sounded crazy. Every case, he said his stories were the truth. Half-truths, maybe. Every case I investigated seemed like hokey little home-spun ghost story._

_My life began to feel like a prolonged episode of the X-files. (I mean the early seasons, before it got all government conspiracy...y) It was irritating. There were even people running around claiming to be vampires. Yeah, right. It was just an old fashioned serial killer, plain and simple. I didn't believe in that shit._

_ Actually, when I think about it, maybe I did. I mean, after that vampire case, I actually **did** entertain the idea that our suspect was hiding out as a bat at the shop...but I just said I was going 'batty' (haha, see what I did there...wow I'm starved for humor.) and dismissed the idea. _

_ The longer I investigated D, the crazier things got. Man-eating fish, killer rabbits—no, seriously, killer rabbits. I know I'm not crazy on this one. Half of Los Angelos was covered in the freaky little critters. And plenty of people, children even, were hospitalized. As much as I wanted to arrest the bastard, legally, D was clean, and free to go. He **always** had an escape plan of some sort. Repeated attempts to obtain evidence against him were fruitless. The guy always had some sort of legal documentation or reasoning that made it impossible to pin anything on him. I began a to regularly patrol the area, hoping to catch some illicit activity. _

_ I stopped using specific cases as an excuse to check out the pet shop. I decided that I needed to keep a closer eye the Count. I took up the Count's many offers of tea and cake. Well, the tea at least. I'm not much for sweets, but the Count was a sugar addict. The first cup of tea he ever gave me was sweet enough to put a rhinoceros into sugar-shock. Disgusting. He always remembered to serve it to me 'black' after that time. And there were many times, after that. _

_ ...And then it started getting weird. _

_From the moment I met the Count, he was disgustingly polite, but always held this air of superiority and sarcasm that always irritated me. It pissed me off. He was constantly brewing his tea and eating sweets, and was (almost) always delighted to share them with me. I'm pretty sure he was more interested in playing mind games with me. Still didn't find any dirt on him. I **did** look. _

_Despite his condescending behavior, tea with the Count became a regular thing. I went to the shop nearly every afternoon. To the point where it only seemed natural go there on Christmas Eve. (Which turned out to be one of the most insane nights of my life. It involved eggs, sneaking into houses, rush hour traffic, a dominatrix dentist, a mob boss, and a dragon. Not kidding. I'll probably make an entry about that another time.)_

_ I'm sure that (after asking the obvious 'wtf were you smoking that night?' question) if anyone reads this, I'm sure they're thinking: Why would you **do **that? You were so obsessed with this suspect, that you didn't have anything else to do on Christmas? Or have other people to celebrate with? Count D asked me the same thing._

_ And you know what? The answer is 'no'. _

_I didn't have anyone else to celebrate with. My dad had left years ago, my mother died five years prior giving birth to Chris, my little brother...and he didn't even really know me. To be honest, I really didn't know him. He was living with my Aunt and Uncle on the East coast, under the impression that they were his real parents. I was basically out of the picture. My job didn't allow for much time off around the holidays, so heading across the country wasn't really an option. Everyone else I knew had plans of their own. _

_ I think I got a little off topic, but since I brought him up, I suppose I should write about Chris._

_After about a year of investigating the Count, my little brother came to live with me. His 'sister' had gotten mad at him, and told him the truth: that he was not her real brother, and that his real mom had died in childbirth. She told Chris it was his fault. Poor kid. He turned all his emotions inward, and his guilt left him unable to speak. It was traumatic for the six-year-old. So, they sent him to me. I was planning on sending him to an institution, for kids with emotional and psychological problems. I was a cop, I didn't have the time to deal with him. But the whole thing was so sudden, it took me a few days to get all the paperwork sorted and medical stuff filled out. But what was I supposed to do with him till everything was squared away?_

_I ended up leaving him with the one guy I knew who could deal with him. Count D. At least until he was in that special school. Ok, I might have railed about him being a murderer, child-trafficker, and drug dealer...but like I stated earlier, I had no proof...and I didn't think he'd hurt my little brother. And Chris...he loved it at the pet shop. _

_I don't know how to describe this next part without sounding like a complete loon, but honesty is the best policy in this report, no matter how crazy it sounds. _

_I began to understand Chris. And I don't mean I began to relate to him. I mean, I felt like I could 'hear' him. He could just look at me—not even look at me, I just KNEW what he needed. I knew what he was thinking. It was so loud and clear. _

_And Count D could hear him as well. _

_We never discussed it. And I never sent Chris to that special school. I just dropped him off at the pet shop, every day, before I went to work. Count D protested at first, but it wasn't long before all arguments stopped, and it became routine, like tea-time. And soon enough, I was leaving Chris there for days at a time, and every afternoon, I stopped in for tea, and checked on Chris. Played with him a bit, and after a while, went to my apartment to sleep before a long shift in the morning. Eventually, sleep was all that my apartment was good for. Chris and I were practically living at the pet shop. _

_Then Chris could suddenly talk. I don't know the specifics, but Sam, his 'sister' came and apologized, and 'click', words poured out of his mouth. His family took him back home. I wasn't there. I didn't see any of it happen. No one asked me. I just came back to the pet shop after work that evening and he was gone. And the Count just brushed it off. He just said, "Oh, Chris can talk now. He went home with his sisters. Care for some tea?"_

_I was so angry. Mostly at D. I mean, he just brushed Chris aside! Chris had been under our care for about a year. And D didn't even bat an eyelash when he left. Going home was good for Chris. He needed a 'normal' family life. _

_He isn't human. I'm not sure WHAT he is. But it's something bigger than us. Something from China. A creature who felt all humans deserved to be on the lowest ends of the food chain. He thought he was better than us. What did Chris or I matter? It pissed me off. It hurt. _

_It had felt like we were a family. Apparently, D hadn't thought the same thing. He went on with life like Chris never existed. _

_Then it happened. Out of the blue, I'm called into the Chief's office, where some big league FBI agent Howell asks me for the scoop on D. This guy was serious. He wasn't like the rest of our precinct. He didn't think I was a loon, or weird or whatever. He genuinely wanted to crack down on the Count D situation. He had some pretty cracked-up theories, but this was D we were talking about. Cracked-up was just run-of-the-mill-crazy to the bat-shit-insane-crazy that was Count D's life. _

_It's funny. The moment that someone actually took me seriously about my suspicions, was the moment that I realized that I didn't really **want** to arrest D anymore. _

_And then D was gone. He just left. His shop left with him. He just disappeared. From there, the manhunt was on. _

_Agent Howell tracked Count D down. And I was lured in by Count D's father. Pleasant guy. Tried to kill me. I ended up killing him. Apparently, 'daddy' was some mad scientist. He was going to release some super-virus that was going to kill all the humans on earth. So, what choice did I have than to fire a bullet to his brain? Kill or be killed. The rule of mother nature. If I learned anything from the D's, it was that. _

_I wish I could say: this is where things get unbelievable. But, I'm not gonna even try to make it sound like the rest of this journal makes any sense. _

_To sum up: after I killed his father, there was a big explosion, Howell died, and I thought I was gonna die. I expected D was going to kill me. I asked him to make it quick. I was a goner either way, and he'd already demonstrated that he didn't give a damn about any human, not me, not Chris, not anyone. _

_Then he saved me. We were falling off a skyscraper. Then I was floating. I thought I was dead. Then I found myself on a ship, flying through the air. It was the pet shop. Count D was there. _

"_Humans have not yet earned the right to board this ship", he said. Then he pushed me overboard. He was smiling. He was crying. Then I woke up, in a hospital, with Chris and his family, and my partner Jill. I hurt like hell. And the Count was gone. _

_I don't know if I dreamed that last thing. A rational man would blame it on whatever painkillers they had me on. But I stopped being rational the moment I met that cross-dressing China man. _

_That's why I'm on the road. I need answers. I need to know where he is. What he is doing. Why he left. I need to know. _

_Jesus, I've written a novella here. Hardly the utilitarian 'police report' I was going for. And I didn't even say half of what happened. I think I'm gonna have to detail things in later entries. I suppose journals force you to do that. They make you think, and force you to notice the details. Or notice the lack of detail.  
_

_ I suddenly understand why people thought I would have kept a journal back then. And I understand why I never kept one. It wasn't that my reports were enough. Not just that, anyway. Journals are where you pour out your inner-most thoughts and problems, when paper is the only thing left that you think you can trust to tell your secrets and fears. Back then, I didn't need paper. After my shift was over, I didn't pull out a pen and write; I drank tea and talked. _

_D was my journal. Now all I have is paper.  
_

_~Leon_


	3. April 12, 1999

_Leon's Journal 4_

_April 12, 1999_

_ I'm worried that I might never find him. I'm wondering if I'm just an idiot who doesn't know when to quit. I sometimes think that I might die out here, alone. _

_ Maybe I should just go back. Give up. Maybe I could return to my old job. Maybe I could find the right woman, settle down, and get a piece of that American dream type bullshit. Nah. That's not for me. But it would be a heck of a lot easier than all this running around crap. _

_ Sometimes I think it would have been better if I never met D at all. I would still have my job, solving crimes and serving justice. If there was a little extra time in the evening, I could go to the nearest bar, down a few beers, and try to pick up chicks. Of course, most of the time, chicks wouldn't look twice at me. Then I'd end up going home by myself. God, that's lame when I think about it._

_ If I had never investigated Count D, my life would have remained simple. But, no! I have to go and investigate, even when there was no concrete evidence against him. All I went on was my goddamned instinct. Lately, I've been wondering if 'instinct' is even the right word. Maybe it was something else entirely. Something that I'm either unable or unwilling to admit. _

_ What am I even going to do when I find D? I've been asking myself that question more and more often. I still don't know the answer. I mean yeah, I will give him that drawing Chris made. But what the hell else? One day I looked at a calendar and was shocked to realize that over a year had passed, and I was still on this fool's errand. What the Hell do you say to a guy after you've chased him from continent to continent, with no excuse except: "Here, you forgot this"? Hah. Maybe it'd be easier if I came up with a new excuse. _

_ Maybe I'll just say, "Hah, found you!" or "Where the Hell have you been, you bastard!". Then we could just start arguing like nothing had changed. I miss our arguments. They always distracted me from the drain of everyday life. In fact, I think I looked forward to them._

_ I can't go back. I promised myself. I promised Chris. Before I left, I told him that I wouldn't return until I found the Count and gave him that silly crayon picture. That drawing is in my backpack, wrapped up in a waterproof envelope. I might have framed it, but a picture frame isn't practical when you're back-packing around the world. I have to keep my bags as light as possible._

_ Damnit. Chris. If I hadn't met D, I would have sent Chris to that special school when he was shoved my way. I know D was partly the reason I kept Chris with me. I don't know WHY exactly, but I know it was his doing. He made me suddenly understand the kid, without Chris ever speaking a word. Not like I was hearing voices or anything, I could just...sense what Chris was feeling. And he was miserable. _

_ If not for D, Chris would probably still be in that school. And he'd still be miserable. Damn, when did I get so selfish? I have to find D. Maybe what I really want to do is thank him. _

_ Maybe._

_~Leon_


	4. April 17, 1999

Leon's Journey 4

_April 17, 1998_

_ It's been a while. There wasn't much happening in the last week that I considered relevant, so I'm only getting to it now. I hitch-hiked over the border from France._

_ I've been in Germany for about a week. I'm headed to the Berlin Chinatown. I'll probably get there in a few hours. I'm on a bus from XXX to Berlin right now. When I get dropped off I'm going to have to find my way through downtown. I've been studying a German-English dictionary, for when I can't find the words I need to express. I haven't been using it (or the other language dictionaries that fill my knapsack, along with various tour guides) as much as I thought I'd need to. Everyone over here speaks two or three languages. It's scary how fluent all these people are in English and German and French and Italian even. So, usually, I can find someone to ask questions. _

_ What I've REALLY focused on lately is Chinese. I'm hoping that, if and when it comes down to it, I can have at least a basic understanding of the language before I venture into more eastern territories. It's hard enough getting information out of people in Chinatowns. I can only imagine how much harder it will be in China. Another complication: Where would I START LOOKING in China. It's one thing to travel to Chinatown in every European country. Those are small, even if a bit far between. But, damn. China is only one of the biggest countries in the world, containing about a billion people many of whom I don't imagine speak all that much English. I'm also betting that they are likely to be far more tight-lipped than the people in all the Chinatowns I've been to. _

_ It's really been annoying. All those Chinese people and their voo-doo secrets and distrust of foreigners. And of COURSE, I have to look like some typically Anglo-American stereotype. It's enough to make me want to dye my hair black, just to blend in a little more. But I'm gonna be honest: I like my hair. And it doesn't hurt that the ladies love it too. It's probably the best conversation starter I have. Typically, I find that the younger generation of Chinese is far more likely to give me information than their elders. They have a sense of curiosity about my hair. And my eyes. They really seem to like blue eyes. Unfortunately, when I ask about strange Chinese men and mysterious pet shops, the most they can contribute is to point me in the direction of yet another superstitious old-timer, and try as I might, I can't seem to get any of them to crack. _

_ It used to be so much easier. Before, I could flash a badge and offer a glimpse of my gun and people would are least leak a little info. Even if it wasn't always the most trustworthy information. Now I knock on the door and old ladies just slam them in my face. _

_ When I first was investigating D, my partner Jill, suggested I pull when I wanted to push. So I did that. I tried buttering up Count D with some sweets. Well. Jill picked up the sweets for me. I didn't know how fancy and hard to obtain those candies were until the Count went all doe-eyed and very nearly began to drool in front of me. But they did the trick: D began to spill—ok, more like leaked...a very slow leak—some of his secrets. But, in the end, everything he told me never truly made sense. No, it made sense, it was just unbelievable. And if something is unbelievable, I tend to not believe it. Sure it all went into my reports, everything did. My reports were thorough. Unfortunately, added the parts where D was insisting that a man committed suicide by looking into his pet lizard's (lover's?) eyes, then the said animal also committed suicide by looking into a mirror didn't really make me appear to be the most rational human being on the planet. I've gotten off-track, but I think my point was that I might need to try harder to butter up those people in Chinatown. _

_ The bus is entering Berlin now. Gotta pack up my stuff. I'll write later. _

_ MOTHER FUCKER. I'm not in town for more than half an hour, trying to make my way through Chinatown, when I suddenly see a photograph in a window of some shop. It was the same photo that D had in his shop: A picture of his Grandfather and two vampires. (Yes, vampires...long story again. I didn't believe it as first, but in retrospect it's the only conclusion I can draw.) _

_ So, I go in, demanding that the shop keeper tell me where he got that photo. He told me that it was an old antique left over from WW2. I couldn't leave it at just that, so I started all out running to Chinatown...only to find out it wasn't Chinatown. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._

_ How could I be so stupid?_

_ By the time I did find Chinatown, and as fate would have it, I found the pet shop, D was gone. Again. _

_ Turns out, Count D happened in on the same shop keeper a mere hour or so after I did. I guess he ran right then and there. It only takes minutes for D to pack up his shop. It basically flies away. The whole thing is a boat. That flies. In space. Yeah, I sound nuts. I said before that most of what I write in here will make me look crazy. _

_ Damn it. Just. Fuck. I was so close._


	5. April 21, 1999

_April 21, 1999_

_ Wow. I just saw in the newspaper today: Big school shooting in America, at Columbine High School. Crazy. Two kids just went in an shot up the place. All planned. Then they killed themselves. _

_ I don't understand it. I've killed people. Boom. Right in the head. Like D's father. I'll never forget that. I remember it as though it was yesterday. I remember every person I've ever killed. I've never wanted to kill anyone, criminals or otherwise. But it comes with the territory. You can't save everyone, no matter how hard you try. I don't understand what could drive such young people to do something like that. That's what the people in the news keep saying, too. It sort of makes me think of Harry Seals. Oh god. Worse: it makes me think of Chris. People were saying that those kids were bullied and had problems...I'm glad more than ever that Chris started talking and never had to go to that special school. If he'd...maybe I should just stop thinking about this for now. Chris is safe. He's 8 years old now, and with my Aunt and Uncle in New York, and he's well-adjusted. I think. I hope._

_Moving on:_

_ I'm probably going to start updating this thing weekly. More often if something interesting suddenly happens. But to be honest, most of my time is spent on the road, walking. I hitchhike every so often. I know it's not the safest thing...as a cop I used to enforce laws against it. But like I said: I'm not a cop anymore. Maybe I should buy a bike. I try not to spend too much money...but it's Europe. People do a lot of biking here. Tour de France, and all that. I bet there is a some sort of used bike I can get for cheap. Yeah, I'll look into that. It would save on gas and bus fare. God I'm glad I'm not in America right now. Gas prices are up to $1.30/gallon. I don't know what that is in pounds and liters. But I'm not sure I want to know. This economy is ridiculous._

_ I'm heading toward the Netherlands now. After hitting the Chinatown up there I'm going to make my way Southeast, through France. Heh, maybe I'll check out Amsterdam's red light district. Wouldn't that be something? I AM a man after all. A little R+R on this trip would be a nice change of pace. Actually, I bet I WOULD find some link to Count D in the red light district...) After that I think I'll head back North, to England and Ireland. I'll probably linger at the docks by the channel on the way up. I'll do some work as a day laborer. It's really the only thing I can do to make an extra buck on the side. I may have lost a fair amount of weight these past two years, but I still look pretty fit, and the guys at the docks could always use a set of hands. Maybe I can find some exotic animal traders while I'm at it. Who the Hell knows? D could be trading with people in England. _

_ Yeah. Chinatown is good and all, but pet dealers...I should try as many of those as possible. And breeders. Oh, aquariums too. I mean, fish helped with the Mellow case, right? I'll just have to ask for something odd. If they can't help me, I'll demand to know who can. I'm sure SOMEONE will point me in D's direction. I'll do it as slyly and discretely as I can. Give a fake name and stuff. I wonder what would be a good one. Maybe I can pull a name from a news paper. Something that doesn't stand out too much. Maybe an old case file. Just nothing like John Smith. Even if Count D likes to mess with the average Joe, I'm at least gonna give a little style to my name. Names. I'll need several aliases. This whole expedition needs to be played carefully, like a sting operation._

_ Whatever names I choose. I'll have to rehearse a bit. Jill always said I was a terrible liar. I think that's pretty true. But I guess that also made me very trustworthy. Unfortunately, when it came to D, it made me look foolish. The best I could ever come to lying was keeping my big mouth shut. But I'm gonna need to do the best I can, if I ever want to find D. It would be horrible if I slipped up whatever name I was using while asking for information._

_ Well, I only have a thousand some odd miles to walk, with a lot of trees and road for company. Might as well start practicing. _

_~Leon_


	6. May 4, 1999

_May 4, 1999_

_ Alright, I've made a list of aliases:_

_Christian Arata_

_Jamie Daum_

_Kurt Dildy_

_Neil Dollins_

_Cody Eaker_

_Jamie Frisk (Hah, that sounds like a perv name. Maybe I'll use it in Amsterdam.)_

_Max Haslett_

_Ted Nilson_

_Matthew Prisbey_

_Darryl Strauch_

_ I just picked them out of a phone book, blindly. If it was some weirdo foreign name I would look again, but I'm OK with this list. Although maybe I'll rethink Darryl. I'm not sure I can pull off Darryl. But 10 names should be good for now. _

_ I crossed the Netherlands border early this morning. A just about half an hour ago I arrived here, at Enschede.____ It's the first sizable town I've seen here in the Netherlands. The people seem friendly enough. Is it just me, or do Dutch people and the like all sound like their voices are trapped in a flute?_

___ Anyway, I'm sitting on a small park bench as I write this entry and there are some children playing Frisbee on the grass. They look happy. One kid missed the disk completely and it clonked him on the head. It reminds me of the time we took Chris to play baseball. He was never a good catch. But "we", I mean D and I. I distinctly remember a ball clonking me on the head, hard. I know that abominable goat had something to do with it. But I couldn't prove it at the time. Freaky, man-eating flea bag. I wouldn't have brought him along, except for the fact that Chris insisted on having that animal with him all the time. Seriously, what did I ever do to him? I mean, besides try to arrest D. None of D's animals liked me. I can only assume it's because I kept trying to put away their master. _

___ Hah, listen to me, talking about these animals like they have minds of their own, loyalties, and vendettas. But they do, really. I know it. I've seen them. They aren't normal. Or if they are normal, then what does that mean? Are all animals like that? _

___ By 'that' I mean...Gah, I don't know what I mean. I suppose this all goes back to the beginning. The only way to make it make any sense is to start from there. _

___ There were people there. THEY were people. Every last one of them. The animals, I mean. I know it's crazy. I didn't believe it before; not until I saw them with my own eyes, at the very end. Call me a doubting Thomas, if you want, but a good Detective needs solid proof, not hearsay testimony._

___ People always had stories about people in the pet shop. Men and women, boys and girls, babies; exotic beauties from the far reaches of the earth. No matter how you spliced it, it sounded like a black market people trade to me. Child abuse is probably one of the worst things I've ever witnessed ____in my time as a detective. You see one case, and you're determined to make sure it doesn't happen to another victim. Illegal immigrants, sold into slavery; babies, sold to black market adoption agencies; more often than not, physical and mental abuse goes hand in hand. It's sickening. I don't know about you, but seeing the dismembered corpse of a girl who's only crime was trying to run away is plenty of motivation for me to zero in on any human trafficker. _

___ And that is what Count D was, in my eyes. Every time a new 'pet' was sold, I'd be there, checking up on him. And every time, he'd be clean. Try as I might, I could never find a shred of evidence to support the human trafficking theory. I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Except for that damned goat. Freaky thing._

___ Yeah. I didn't see anything. Not until the end. After Howell was killed. After I killed D's father. After D saved me. _

___ I never fail to be amazed at that. D saved me. I had just shot his old man, right in front of him. I killed him to save the human race, the ones D and his family hated, and sought to destroy. He should have left me to die. Any other criminal would have. It was his chance. He could leave, and I'd never be around to pester him ever again. I was ready to die. _

_______I guess he didn't like that. Nope, not one bit._

___I know I gave a brief overview of all these events in earlier entries, but here's the unabridged version, in all of it's insanity._

___The next thing I knew, D was lifting me roughly by the underarm, dragging me to the edge of the burning highrise. I was half-joking when I reminded him that all Chinese people could fly. And then he gave me that all knowing smirk of his, and jumped, pulling me with him. I braced for impact—but it never came. D disappeared, and I was suspended in the clouds. My injuries were healed. I felt no pain. I thought I was dead._

___ I still thought I was dead, when I saw that huge vessel sailing through the sky. I swam/flew/floated to it as fast as I could, as though nothing in this universe was more important than me reaching that ship. I reached it. I climbed over the side, and that's when I saw them. All the people I'd been looking for over the past two years. Men, women, children...everyone..._

___ Then I realized, that I knew them. Pon-chan. Pon-chan! She ran to me with a huge smile on her face. And I realized that I must have been the stupidest man alive right then. I'd seen Pon-chan before. I know I had. I saw her every day at the shop. I saw her the day that evil goat got shot. She'd told me about the woman in the car, who had taken Chris and the Count that day. God. How had I not noticed? The goat was there. Tetsu, in genie pants and goat horns. This is what all those people had seen, wasn't it? I could accept that. Hell, given the alternative, I WANTED to accept that. I could live with it, and revelation that came with it: D was not guilty. I think, that was the first time I'd ever been relieved at his innocence. _

___ I found D at the far end of the deck. He was looking at the Earth below us. I asked where we were going. "Anywhere," he had said. When he turned to me, I saw something I'd never witnessed from him before: tears. (I'd never seen him cry before, except for those ridiculous crocodile tears he bawled when I threatened his dragon egg on Christmas Eve...there was something strangely satisfying in that. Kinda like picking on the little girl next to you in kindergarten, heh.) I can only guess at why he was crying at the time. A lot had happened. He was smiling though. Always smiling. Always fucking smiling. _

___ What was it, Josie had said? Count D's smile was like a mask. Does that mean I should only pay attention to his eyes? What do those tears say about the man? More importantly, what does the ____mask conceal? _

___ I never got the chance to ask him. "Humans have not earned the right to board this ship. Not yet." He said, then he pushed me, with more strength than I ever thought the slight man capable. And I woke up, as though from a bad dream._

___ I should have died. By all accounts, I should be dead. I sustained massive injuries to my head and chest. I lost a ton of blood. Heh, but I've made it out of near death situations before. And D was always there. _

___ But not anymore. Every other time I woke up in the hospital in the two years I knew him, he was right beside me when I woke up, chastising me, peeling apples and obnoxiously telling me to open wide and say "Ahhh". But now, D was gone. _

___ I'm going to find him. _

___ I'm going to unmask him._

___ And you can bet your ass, I'm going to be the first human on that ship. _

___ ~Leon_


	7. May 5, 1999

_May 5, 1999_

_ So, I've decided that I'm going to keep making my way to major cities, like I have been, but in every small town that I stop, I'm going to poke into the local pet shops. I can't go into every town in the world, but if I only make quick stops in the larger towns I take on my main route, I might actually make a discovery. I'm using the first alias from my list._

_ There's 3 pet stops in town. Two of those are big chain stores. I'm scratching them off the list right now. I'm looking for specialists, and kids that are working part time jobs selling fish and rats aren't going to have any information. The last and most promising one is on the East side of town. Let's try my luck as "Christian Arata."_

_ Well, that wasn't as helpful as I had hoped it would be. But I guess that's to be expected. It's naïve to think I'd get a bite on the first cast, so-to-speak. Speaking of fishing, I should probably grab a rod. I could fish in the less populated areas, maybe. Then again, it would probably waste a lot of time. Eh, I'll decide later. Maybe one of those silly pocket fisherman things, if I see one. Or maybe I'll just buy some line and tie it to a stick. I don't need anything fancy._

_ I'm really getting off track. Right. _

_ It turns out, that most of the pet places around here mostly cater to horses. Which is actually a good thing. D had access to horses. I mean, he did help supply the horse for that movie set I pulled duty on. Yeah, that was fun. And he knows a good bit about horses. So, I'm betting a breeder might know something about Count D. _

_ Turns out, despite my best attempts to avoid it, I ended up talking to some teenaged halfwit working a part time job. He said that the owner of the supply store did own a stable nearby, but that he was away on business. And the kid had no idea when the guy would be back. Figures. I gave him my 'name' and asked for a good number to call. The kid didn't want to give me his boss's phone number (Which, given my appearance, is understandable. Point to the teen. Mental note: freshen up before approaching the next guy. If I'm a 'customer', I'm going to at least need to look like I CAN take care of an animal.) I got the facility number instead, told the kid I'd call back in a couple of days, and left. _

_ It's getting late now. I should probably find a place to sleep. I saw a bridge that looked pretty inviting about a mile from the shop. Let's just hope that there aren't any territorial locals fighting for that same spot. I've mostly been lucky on that: I've really only have a handful of squabbles over a place to sleep. But most of the time the local bums relax when the realize that I'm just passing through. But not always. I got sliced by one crazy lady in France. (I guess people aren't kidding when they say that the French are rude to Americans...although I'm betting most of them never got stabbed.) It was pretty superficial, but deep enough that I made my way to a clinic, where, hah, the French doctors proved just as inviting as the local bridge dwellers. I think that doctor took some sort of sick pleasure in stitching the wound shut. And I'm pretty sure that anesthetic was placebo. Good thing I have high pain tolerance._

_ So, I'll get a night's rest. Then I guess it's off to the next major city. I'm looking at my map. Looks like the next best town to try on my way to Amsterdam is Hengelo. Shouldn't take too long. I'll sort of follow route A1 all the way up. You know I used to think all these back packers were insane for going across Europe like this. But it's not really all that bad. Especially since I can't help but notice that the Netherlands are only about the size of the state of Connecticut and Massachusetts._

_~Leon_

* * *

Author Note's: I want to thank you all for the kind reviews! I really wanted to write something that focuses on all of Leon's thoughts and worries on his journey, and I'm glad you all seem to be enjoying it, despite all the recapping (which I find necessary for Leon to truly make mental connections). I'm going to try and progress this story as seen in this chapter, where Leon talks about his travels, then connects it to the recap. I'm trying to write this story in a way that people that are somewhat unfamiliar with the manga or haven't read it in a while can still understand. I've read and reread the manga countless times. Especially volume ten, which is really an allegory of D's feelings for Leon. I'm always finding new hints at Leon and D's feelings for each other and I'm trying to exploit whatever connections I can find. I'm not sure exactly how long this fic will go on...I might try to limit my 'entries' to about four per month of Leon's travels. (Roughly one per week). I want to at LEAST continue this story well through December 1999, as I came up for this story while listening to Christmas music at work. I think it would really be interesting to really treat it like an actual journal, and have it span many many entries. But, if I do that, I know that some of these entries will be very short, and maybe not all that interesting on their own. But I can try my best. Thank you for reading!

~CrossedScarsX

P.S.: OH. And one more thing. This is a SHAMELESS plug, and I'm terrible for doing it, but there aren't many places to post a link to this. I made a manga music video for Leon and D. WARNING:It's angsty and dark, and sort of has a character death in it. But you might enjoy it. There are spoilers, but nothing that anyone reading this fanfic should worry about. And it's a bit out of order...ish. It involves some images from the chapter Doom (the one with the Butterfly) which can give you an idea of how dark it is. ww w . you of the tubes .com/watch?v=gM2kQLoeVd4


	8. May 11, 1999

_May 11, 1999_

_Well, Hengelo was a waste of time. Not much in the way of pet stores. There was some supply stores, for the farmers in the area, but nothing else. I need to focus on more industrialized cities, not just size. No more plotting out cites to detour to. I lost a good three days of travel just on Hengelo. Although, I DID find a nice little bicycle shop. I told the guy that I'm going across country and that I needed something study, not fancy. He pointed me to a really nice mountain bike, that was a lot more expensive than I could afford. I told him used bikes were fine too. Eventually he pulled out a bike he had been refinishing. It had some wear and tear on the metal frame. The handlebars needed to be re-taped, at the very least. He told me if I was planning on going long distances I would have to make sure that I got it maintained properly. I told him I would, and I got it for half the price that I would have paid for the other one. I also picked up the cheapest air pump I could get, and two replacement inner tubes for the wheels, in case I got a flat. I'm really going to have to stop at those docks on the channel now. I'm really delving into my funds for this. But if time is money, then I'll be rich in the savings this thing will get me._

_Hell, it may be a bit beat up, but I figured maybe fixing this bike up along the way could be a pet project while I search for D. I used to fix up my own bike when I was a kid. I'm sure it will come back, as needed. I'd checked the ball bearings and the machine seemed well-oiled, so I mounted up, and rode away. That was two days ago._

_And let me say, things are coming back alright. MY BUTT HAS NEVER HURT SO BADLY IN MY LIFE. Even D wasn't as big a pain in my ass. But...ugh. THIS. It hurts to stand, it hurts to sit. I'm walking all pigeon-toed here. Ugh. That's what I get for not riding all these years. I think I prefer getting shot to this. At least in the hospital I got morphine._

_At least in the hospital, there was D. He always seemed to know when I was in trouble. I mean, I know Jill (my co-worker in the precinct) called him—which is funny, because I don't recall ever putting the bastard down as my emergency contact—but she once let it slip that D always seemed to know when something was wrong. She said it was 'cute'. God, she could be annoying. But I got to admit: it was comforting, having D there. No matter how much he grated on my nerves, or how many times I yelled at him, or how much both of us complained...he never left. And I was really glad for the company. It didn't matter that I though he was a drug dealer, or a murderer, or a human trafficker. I may have said that to him, over and over...but I'm really glad he came. I'm glad he always stayed, as long as visiting hours would allow. Hell, even after visiting hours. Between him and Jill, they always knew someone who could pull the strings and let the Count stay through the night._

_Why? I never understood it. Count D should have hated me. I was trying to arrest him. We were always fighting. We've said horrible things to each other over the years. And yet, there he was, always the first thing I saw when I woke up. Count D's smiling face._

_The smile. Was that another mask? Shit. I'm afraid of that answer. If it were a mask, what was it covering? Relief that I was alive? Maybe he didn't want me to know how worried he was? Or worse: what if he wasn't worried? What if he was angry that I'd survived, to live for another day to darken his doorway with another accusation? Why does that thought hurt so much?_

_The longer he runs, the longer I chase after him, the more worried I get that it was anger. But then, if it was anger, why didn't he just get rid of me? Or just leave in the first place? Why did he wait two years before running? Did he get wind of Agent Howell? I don't see how he could have. I didn't mention it to him, before he disappeared the first time. He was just gone._

_I think he was going to tell me he was leaving. He started to say something as I left the shop that day. But I was in such a bad mood that day, because of Chris and Howell and everything that...he just kept quiet. When we came by to arrest him, he and all his animals, were gone. Poof. As was the back rooms of the shop. All the rooms—there was a maze of corridors back—were suddenly gone, with an empty supply closet in it's place._

_Howell said it was hypnosis and hallucinogenic incense. That's a lot of bull. The tests all came back negative. I can't accept that theory, not after everything I've seen. I don't mean to speak ill of the dead, but he was a man obsessed. Jill said I reminded her of him. I guess it takes one to know one. Howell was as dead set against D's old man as I was against D. I guess that's the real irony of the situation: Howell was after D's father, not D. But Howell thought they were the same person. Almost everything about the those two was identical. Except the eyes. D had dual colored eyes, gold and violet, that were terrible and beautiful all at once. His father's eyes...they were cold, and unfeeling. I can't believe I didn't notice them at first, when I met his father in the street. Maybe I was just so relieved to see D again that I was blinded to what should have been obvious._

_Yeah, that must have been it. I had just spent three days sitting alone in the empty pet shop smoking god knows how many cigarettes (all I know is that I ran out...). I don't think I have been that...worried? I guess. Yeah. Not that worried since my mother was pregnant with Chris. When did I start caring about him that much? I can never fully explain how I felt when I suddenly heard D's voice call to me from that limo. I wanted to punch him and hug him at the same time. Most importantly, I did NOT want to arrest him. Hah. I had every reason to arrest him. There was an official warrant. He was wanted by the FBI in several states. And what did I do? I crawled into that limo and drove off with him. D's father must have somehow known I'd go with him. It was the first and only time I ignored my duty as an officer of the law._

_It almost got me killed. D's father stuck me in a menagerie of man-eating monsters. Animals. D never liked it when I called them monsters. That's how I got all those injuries I talked about before. It wasn't a fall from the stratosphere. If D hadn't shown up when he did, I'm sure I'd have died. Heh, that's probably the one time he let his mask slip. I didn't imagine it. D truly looked displeased when he father tried to kill me. Scared even. I've never seen him look worried for me before that. It scared me...if HE looked worried, I must have been in a bad way._

_Damn it. Where are you?_

_~Leon_


	9. May 17, 1999

**_May 17, 1999_**

_Well, a lot of insignificant things happened this week. I nearly killed myself riding my bike off road. I was hoping to take a shortcut towards Amsterdam. I took a spill over a hidden log. I'm just glad I didn't get a flat._

_I've been camping out, lately. Not really the smartest choice. I'm pretty sure there are wolves and crap out here. But it's not the first time I've camped out. I can manage. I know how to keep a small fire going. I guess boyscout training paid off after all! I have a very light lean-to that I use in case of rain. Although, now I feel like I need to keep my bike drier than myself. Eh, I'll figure it out._

_The bike has really paid off. I'm actually in Amsterdam right now. I would have gotten here sooner, but my attempted short cut turned out to not be so short after all. On the bright side of things, the bike seat isn't hurting me as much. I guess it just took a couple of days to get used to._

_I'm sitting in a cafe in Chinatown right now. I got some sort of dumpling thing...I think it has chicken in it...with a side of vegetables. I couldn't read the menu...it was in Dutch and Chinese...and I might be making headway on speaking Chinese, there's no way in Hell I'm going to master reading it. Then again. Perhaps a menu isn't the worst place to start learning. I mean, the writing will generally be the same from Chinatown to Chinatown. And if it means I avoid ordering any of that 'birds nest soup'...ugh. Yeah, it's probably worth it. But I'd have to get some sort of book on the writing...I only have Walkman tapes and one of those books with the really ridiculous English spellings of the words, that don't even look like they are supposed to sound. Really, who made that system? Granted the whole tonal thing is a pain in the ass to translate. It'd probably help if I was more musically inclined._

_As long as I can simply say 'chicken, vegetables, and coffee' I'm ok at a restaurant. Thank god it seems like most people understand what 'coffee' is. Or 'cafe'. Whichever. At least I won't be surprised there. Coffee is my drink of choice now. I don't drink tea anymore. Not since D left. As much as I was in the habit of drinking the stuff when he was around, after he left I just couldn't drink it. Nothing was ever quite as good as his tea. Teas. He always had some new exotic blend that his Grandfather had sent him. Well, supposedly sent him._

_I'm not sure how that worked. I mean, his grandfather was supposed to be traveling the world, in search of new animals, spices, oddities, or whatever. And D would occasionally get packages from him. The weird part about that is, in the end, we discovered that Gramps had been with D the whole time, unbeknownst to any of us, including D. Yeah, that's another level of hocus pocus to add to the shit storm. Gramps was hiding in plain sight as that...bat...thing. Q-chan, D called him. Men turning into bat-things. Like vampires, only not vampires. But that's a mystery I guess I'll never truly unravel. If D was surprised, then how the hell can I hope to understand? _

_...I wonder if D can turn into a bat too?_

_Anyway, Amsterdam. I'll start wandering the alleyways. Keep an eye out for the pet shop. Any pet shop. Keep my ears open to any and all Chinese spoken. Maybe I'll catch a break. I'll probably stick around here for a couple of days, no matter what I find. What single guy wouldn't? Honestly, if anyone ever found out I was in Amsterdam and single and DID'T see some of the 'sights'...well...yeah._

_~ Leon  
_


	10. May 19, 1999

_May 19, 1999_

_…_

_It's been two days since I got to Amsterdam. This is at least my fifth draft/attempt at updating this journal. I wanted to make it as detailed and accurate as I could._

_I found someone who knows about the D's. That should make me happy, but I've never felt so lost. I'm more confused than when I first left L.A. two years ago._

_I took the advice of some shopkeepers in the area and went to the Fo Guang Shan He Hua Temple. A nice Buddhist community center. They said that if anyone around here would remember a face, it'd be one of those monks. So I went. I mean, D all in with that mystical voodoo stuff...why not try a Buddhist Temple?_

_It was a nice, quiet place. They seemed to be in the middle of some ritual when I entered. So I stayed in the back as quietly as possible until they were done. At some point, one of the robed guys approached me, and asked me name, in Dutch. I told him I was "Christian Arata" and I don't speak Dutch. He then continued in heavily accented English. He asked what I was looking for, and I explained to him that I was looking for someone, and I was told that I might find someone here who could help me. I showed him the Berlin photo. "He looks like that guy there. But I'm looking for his grandson. They look the same. Only he wears really traditional clothing."_

_The man turned on his heel very suddenly and told me to follow him. He led me down a hall and into a small back room, where another, older man was praying. There was a stalk of incense burning. It made my eyes water. It wasn't as nice as the incense D used to burn. The younger monk said something Chinese that I wasn't able to grasp and the older man motioned for him to leave._

_"You have questions," was all he said. I wasn't sure if he was talking about Count D or if this was the beginning of some mystical talk he typically gave foreign visitors._

_I introduced myself, again as "Christian" from Chicago, Illinois. Then he looked at me funny and asked me what my real name was. I was so surprised that I stuttered. Am I really **that** bad a liar? So, I bit the bullet, and told him my name was Leon Orcot._

_"I prefer to speak to a person with no masks," he said. (There's that word again, mask.) He asked me why I hid the truth from him. He was a weird little guy. He wasn't creepy, or anything. Actually, it felt very peaceful talking with him. But he was calm to the point of being unnerving. ..like, you know how when someone enters a room and the air sort of feels different? With this guy, I felt like I was alone, talking to a wall that answered back. Or maybe being in a temple was getting to me. I've always felt uneasy around religion. He asked what I was looking for._

_"I'm looking for someone...but I don't think he wants me to find him."_

_"Then why do you continue to chase him?"_

_"I need to give him something."_

_"Need?"_

_Ah. Yeah, I could see what he was getting at. I'd done some brushing up on Eastern Philosophy over the last couple of years._

_"Ok, I want to give him something," I told him. "It seemed important to him when he left."_

_I pulled out Chris's crayon drawing and showed it to him. He smiled. "Material things are never as important as we tend to think they are."_

_I knew he would say something like that. "Not this."_

_"And yet, he left it behind?"_

_"Look...I know what you must-"_

_"-think?" he smiled brightly. God, he reminded me of the Count. "I get that a lot."_

_"Look," I said, "Even if it's stupid...even if it goes against all your beliefs, about material possessions, and attachments to this world...I just want to know if you have seen this man." I showed him the photo._

_"So," he said to me, "You are looking for Count D."_

_"So you know who he is!" I nearly shouted. "Do you know where to find him?"_

_"No, I do not know where to find him. And I'm very certain that no one will ever be able to lead you to him." He said it so matter-of-fact. "If he does not wish to be found, you will not find him."_

_"I can't accept that." I think I sounded more confident than I looked. "I'm going to find him."_

_"Oh? And how long will you look?"_

_"As long as it takes." The bastard was smirking. "Look, if you can't help me then don't waste my time."_

_"...as long as it takes." he repeated. "I can tell, you are a stubborn man, Mr. Orcot. You said that you thought that the Count didn't want you to find him? Why is that drawing so important? Or maybe the drawing is just an excuse?"_

_"It's the only excuse I have." I don't know why I said that. I'd never thought about it that way before. An excuse. But once he said it. I couldn't shake the thought.  
_

_"It seems to me, that you should figure out the reason, and not the excuse, before anything else. What is that phrase? Fools rush in?"_

_By then it was taking every ounce of patience I had not to strangle the guy. But I was good. I took a deep breath, a composed myself, and very calmly told him that if he couldn't help me find the guy, then he could stop acting like an ass and just tell me what little he knew. I said it nicer. But I **thought** the 'ass' part as hard as I could._

_"You remind me of him." I told him._

_"I'll take that, as a compliment," he replied. Irritating. "Do you know how rare a position you find yourself in, Mr. Orcot? Few people have had the honor of meeting one of the D's. I only know of them in legend."_

_"I'm just looking for a clue. A rumor. Anything."_

_He looked at me. I could tell that he was sizing me up. "I've heard stories from visiting monks of two D's...one very very young, and the other, an adult, traveling together. But that was almost a year ago."_

_"Where?"_

_"I don't know." Damn. "But, if I learn something, I can deliver a message for you."_

_It wasn't much, but it was something. "Just spread the word: I want to return what he left behind."_

_"And where can I tell him to find you?"_

_"I'm sure he can find me as easily as he can avoid me."_

_God. I didn't even think about what I was saying at the time. But it's true, isn't it? That's really whats bothering me right now. He doesn't want to be found. He could find me. I know he could find me. D has connections everywhere. I'm sure of it. But he won't let me find him._

_The monk (he told me his name was Han-shan) offered me a place to sleep for the night. I accepted, to be polite. It wasn't much different than sleeping outside. I was still in my sleeping bag. But the roof over my head meant no worrying about the rain, and it was quieter...well, except for the humming sound that drifted through the air from the monks' meditations. I felt like I was trapped in a kung fu movie. It was still a nice change of pace. I didn't sleep too well. I was trying to write this journal. And I was still worrying about what Han had said: That I should figure out the reason, and not the excuse._

_Sorry, but I can't wait around to find the answer. I'll figure it out as I go._

* * *

A/N: This was a really difficult chapter! It turned into a narrative and I had to work really hard to keep it more like a journal, but I think I pulled it off. It was actually thought up as part of the next chapter, but it ended up getting so complicated that I had to split them into two..and now it took on a life of it's own. I hope it's ok! Thanks for reading!


	11. May 20, 1999

_May 20, 1999_

_I noticed that the new Star Wars opened up yesterday. And a line of eager kids were dressed as Jedi outside movie theater in the center of Amsterdam. It seems almost wrong to me, to make a new one. I dunno. I feel like the first three were fine by themselves. I remember when the first one came out in theaters. I was six years old. My father took me to see it. It was amazing. The lights, the battles the effects. It left me breathless, excited, scared and thrilled all at the same time. It was like the thrill of a roller coaster in a movie. I left that theater swinging an imaginary light saber, fully intending to become a Jedi, like all those kids who left the theater yesterday. What could be better than fighting the interstellar bad guys? Using god-like powers? Being the force of good? Being the universal police. In the end, I settled for fighting the bad guys here on earth. But I still feel like Star Wars played it's part._

_It's also probably one of the better memories I had of my father. He wasn't around much. Always away on business. I loved it when he was in town, but it was never for very long. I used to pester my mom, asking her when dad would come home. "Soon," she used to say. Then she'd get quiet and go back to making dinner or doing laundry or any of the hundred other housewife type things that she did.. After a while I stopped asking._

_I didn't really understand any of it until I was in high school. In the end, my dad turned out to be kind of like Vader to my Luke. I wish I could just say that his business trips were actually 'business trips'. But it was more than that. It wasn't just women on the side. He was dipping into company funds to impress them. A nice dinner here. A new car there. An island getaway for him and his mistress for a weekend._

_Eventually, everything came crashing down. He was caught. My father went to prison a few months before Chris was born. He died 6 months after from a heart attack._

_Mom was realized she was pregnant the month before my dad was incarcerated. No one wanted her to have the baby, because her own health was so bad. I didn't want her to go through with it, but she was always very 'pro life'. It wasn't just her health. Some of the family didn't want Chris to be born, given that his father was now in jail, and who knew how that would affect the kid._

_It also gave our family a bad rep. I was 18, looking to go to college, and I was ducking disapproving glances from my guidance counselors. 'There goes Leon Orcot. I'll bet he turns out just like his father.' At least, that's what it felt like when they looked at me._

_That's why I came to California. I wanted to get as far from the East coast as possible, where no one would know who I was. That's why I became a cop. I wanted to be everything my dad wasn't. So I worked hard. I got through the academy damn near the top of my class, believe it or not. I might not have been the smartest, or toughest, but I was driven._

_I never told anyone at the precinct about it. Not even Jill. I wanted to get away from my father so much that I didn't bat an eye when, after my mom died giving birth to him, my Aunt and Uncle took Chris. They knew that I was in no position to take care of a kid. And it was painful for me to deal with, mom dying and all. It wasn't Chris's fault. I didn't blame him. But it was hard._

_I really don't know why I'm writing all this. This has nothing to do with D. Yeah, D and I took care of Chris for over a year, but that was after all that bullshit went down. D didn't know anything about my father. Doesn't know. I'm sure he always just wrote me off as an obnoxious, selfish, idiotic human. I think I was just an amusement for him. He probably won't care. Maybe someday, when I find him, I'll tell D all about it. For some reason, I really want to._

_Den Haag is just a couple hours bike ride from here. I'm gonna grab some food, then head out. I already thanked Han-shan for his hospitality and told him I'd be back one day. Maybe he'll have more information about D by then? I know I said that I'd go see some of the 'sights' before I left, but frankly, all this daddy talk has really put me out of the mood. I don't need an easy chick. Next stop: Den Haag's Chintatown._

_~ Leon_

* * *

A/N: Obviously, I took several liberties with Leon's history here. I really wanted to explore where the heck Leon and Chris's father disappeared to, because Akino never really got into that, and I didn't have the impression that Leon's mom was a widow or divorcee that slept around and got knocked up. Plus I felt that having his dad be a shady character would be good motivation for Leon to be a cop, especially since Leon has always been portrayed as a strong 'force of good' (despite being girl crazy...) The Star Wars Ep 1 premiere was a nifty and convenient way to introduce the subject. ^_^


	12. May 24, 1999

_May 24, 1999_

_Well, another day, another Chinatown. It's been four days since my last entry, and I wish I could put something more meaningful in this report. I'm sitting in a bar now, drinking the cheapest beer on the menu. I try not to sped much on creature comforts nowadays, but every so often, I feel like I need to unwind a bit. And if that means taking refuge with a cold beer on a cloudy humid day, then yeah. (Also, can I just say that I think the Euro is one of the best things to happen to me on this trip? I hate money changing. Going to England is still a pain in the ass though.) I digress._

_I found another Buddhist center. But it seemed populated by a lot more Thai immigrants than Chinese. The head monks did know Han-Shan though, but unfortunately, they were no help when it came to D. It seems to me, and they suggested this as well, that one thing I really need to start doing on this expedition is brush up on Chinese lore._

_It might be in my best interest to stop by some museums, or maybe even colleges, that might have some sort of information on the subject. Yeah. Some of them prissy Ivy League places might have some helpful information. If they'll even let me in. I'd have to freshen up first. Shave, wash up. God, right now I'm a poster child for the bums of the world. I have a nice button down shirt and nice-ish pats that I keep in my knapsack when I'm trying my best to be presentable. My hair is getting long now too, all the way to the middle of my back. But I don't need a fancy hair cut, I'll just snip my ponytail. Not all of it...I like my hair, thank you very much._

_But, as I said, the temple didn't help out much. So I went to my default of questioning passersby. The standard questions are: 1) Have you seen this man (SO GLAD I found that Berlin photo.) 2) Is there a pet shop around here? 3) Have you ever heard of Count D? 4) If I notice that they have an exotic-looking animal: Where did you get that pet?_

_Unfortunately, most of the time the answers are negative. But at least I can practice listening and speaking Chinese. I'm still getting better. I mostly understood a conversation that a couple of girls were having about their boyfriends. Something about how if he didn't all her by this time tomorrow she was gonna break up with him. Hardly the most constructive thing to listen to, but it's something. I'm proud of myself for making it that far. I've noticed that Chinese women seem to know exactly what they want to the point that it's scary. That Count was like that too. But he was always more girly than most of the girls I know. I feel a bit sorry for those guys, actually. But at least those girls aren't all clingy...better to have a girl who won't get all whiny and mopey after a break up. That kind of relationship sucks._

_You know, I could be focusing on getting laid right now! I'm 28 years old, damn it! I'm supposed to be in the prime of my life! There are some FINE looking honeys at this bar, (twins, even!) that I can't buy a drink for because I'm wasting all my time and money on D. Of course...when I think about it, I was wasting my time and money on him before he ran off, wasn't I? All that chocolate and those pastries and crap. Hell, it didn't even pay off in the end. He still got away. Jerk. When I find him, he should make it up to me. Maybe set me up with one of those lady friends he has. Wait. Those were animals, weren't they? I guess that isn't the best option. I'm not into fur. Or scales. Or whatever the hell else he has lurking in his shop. For now I'll just enjoy the eye candy that's right here in front of me._

_The next place on my list is Rotterdam. I'll head out in the morning. It's too late to travel right now. And I still need to find a nice dry corner to sleep before I can travel._

_~ Leon_

* * *

A/N: A warning to all readers-I'm sure you noticed that not much was discovered in this chapter. This fic is going to be obnoxiously long, with probably chapters numbering in the hundreds. I'm going for a somewhat realistic approach to Leon's adventure. As such, I just want to point out that there will likely be many journals that do not contain any major moments of enlightenment on behalf of Leon. He might just have an entry talking about how he's done nothing but travel and get stung by a bee. (Ok, maybe not QUITE that mundane, but I think you get the point). Please, be patient at these times. I promise that the 'aha' moments will be worth the wait. ^_^


	13. May 28, 1999

_May 28, 1999_

_I'm in Rotterdam. Been here a few days. I've only found one piece of information that might be helpful: I found a guy over on West-Kruiskade (The main part of their Chinatown, I guess. It's not as "Chinese" looking as a lot of the other Chinatowns I've been in.) who told me that a friend of his had bought a weird-looking animal recently...but I found the shop that sold it...it was a pretty standard and clinical chain shop. Nothing like D's._

_D's pet shop was always anything BUT clinical. All those cushy couches and carpeting and drapes and fine china. I mean really! Who the fuck keeps a pet shop like that? Hell, how did he ever even keep that place clean? It was immaculate. I never so much as saw a single dog hair on the sofa. And he never had any help, it was always just D. I suppose. Maybe the animals helped clean up after themselves? I mean...if they could do that whole, turning human...thing? I can't believe I just wrote that down...Crap! This is in pen too, so I can't erase it either. And I'm too lazy to rewrite all that again. Not to mention I need to stop going through so much paper. It's wasteful. I mean, I'd have to buy a new notebook once I run out of paper. It's not like I'm becoming some sort of tree hugger, or anything._

_I hope no one ever reads this thing. They'll lock me up, no question._

_Anyway, I did ask the shopkeeper if she'd ever heard of Count D's pet shop, and showed her the picture. Her English wasn't very good, but the conversation definitely indicated 'no'. It was disappointing, to say the least._

_I'm sitting in Het Park as I write this. It's a nice place, lots of winding paths that go through gardens and pass by some really nice looking It cloudy, and I think it might rain soon. It's been pretty moist around here lately. But I think it's like that a lot around here. There is a river/marina winding all through this area, which is good. I think it's time for me to move on from this country. I should be able to find some day work at the docks, like I wrote before._

_I haven't gotten too lucky finding work yet. Mostly because people pick you in the morning, and honestly there are a LOT of places to check here for work, but if I don't find those places early enough, I lose that spot to someone else. But tomorrow shouldn't be so bad. I was too late for a spot today, so at least I know where to find a prime spot to camp out and be the first person there in the morning._

_I'll end up in Harwich, when I cross. I'll probably work a bit more after I get there. Then I'll start making my way towards London...It's a bit of a stretch, but nothing I can't handle. I'll probably look up Jimmy Collins. I worked with him for a while last year. He's a good guy. One of those guys that everybody likes, both on and off the job. A real joker. He'll shout things like, "C,mon Leon, bloody little yank! Stop wanking and move this box! My gran could lift this quicker!" Hah. It was always in good fun. He'd take you out for a drink, just for the sake of having a good time. And man, can he drink. I used to think that I could hold my liquor, but, damn these European guys, I don't know where they put it. Jimmy used to say I wasn't a bad drinker..for an American. Ass. It'll be nice to see him again. I'll definitely look him up. Hopefully, he hasn't drunk himself into the gutter or gotten into some other trouble. He could sometimes get kinda rowdy after a few stiff drinks, and I had step in and stop him from doing anything stupid at least twice._

_Off topic: I'm starting to get a little freaked out right now. I swear there has been a squirrel looking at me for the past ten minutes. I keep looking up from my writing. Oh God, I think it's getting closer when I look away. Yeah. It's definitely getting closer. What, does it think I have food or something? Creepy. After D, everything involving animals just makes me paranoid. Seriously, go away!_

_I think I'm losing it. I just shouted at it to leave me the fuck alone, and tell D that I'm going to find him and to stop sending little critter spies because I'm not quitting. I was loud. I saw a young mother grab her little girl's hand and turn down another path..._

_...it's STILL looking at me._

_One minute._

_Two minutes._

_Three m—ok it's going. Jesus._

_I think I'm going to find another place to sit. I'll spend some time listening to my Chinese tapes, seeing as there isn't much else for me to do. And I can keep my eyes on the squirrels._

_~Leon_


	14. June 2, 1999

_June 2, 1999_

_I haven't written in a while, but I've been busy, so this is just a quick update:_

_Well, I was lucky enough to get a solid four days of dock work in the Netherlands. Got plenty of money to hitch a ride over here, and pick up some food and supplies before I bike up to London. I'm gonna try and call up Jimmy, and see what he's doing. I hope he has the same phone number. But I might be able to find out where he is if I swing by the old warehouse that we both worked at._

_I'll write again soon._

_~ Leon_


	15. June 3, 1999

_June 3, 1999_

_For once, I get to put some good news here: I found Jimmy. He wasn't at his old phone number, or his old address, but as luck would have it, I ran into Jimmy half way to Chinatown. (Literally. I nearly killed him with my bike.) After the initial, "Watch where you're going, jackass/bloody wanker!" we realized who the other was, and we started laughing hysterically. It took him a minute longer to recognize me: I was a lot shaggier looking when he last saw me._

_God, it's really good to see Jimmy. He asked how I was doing, and if I'd found the "Chinese bloke" I'd been searching for. He smiled sympathetically when I told him I was still looking for the Count. He then asked where I was headed. I told him I was checking up on the the London Chinatown again, and then was heading north to the the other three in England. He asked me how my funds were, and I explained to him my situation. Which, to clarify, I AM receiving a pension from the LAPD. I, uh, had to leave the force after D's father tried to kill me. My whole body was never quite...right, after that. Even with the money coming is, it's hardly enough to keep up the traveling pace I've kept up. I may have been living like a bum, but it was a money saving decision. I could have gone to a hotel, but that would have wasted money that could be spent on a train ride to Manchester._

_Anyway, Jimmy told me his situation: He'd actually opened a bookshop near the West End of London—which was great, because of all the tourists that come through. Jimmy said he had been starting a collection of old, odd, and rare books, and sold the typical best sellers like those Harry Potter books that are so popular now. Can't say I was ever much of a reader myself. Hell, D pointed out my lack of book smarts nearly everyday. So what if I didn't know the difference between a marsupial and a piece of cheese? I'm not a zoologist. Hell, HE was the pet shop manager. Of course he'd know. And he was so big into his snack foods. Two of his favorite pass times. Bleh. Getting off track._

_Jimmy said there was a little apartment above the shop, where he was staying now. He invited me to stay with him while I was in London. He also offered to let me work a little in his shop, and he'd pay me 'under the table'. Works for me. I took him up on the offer. It will be nice to have a solid living situation for a little while. I don't want to stay too long, but it might be a good idea to stick around for a little while. I could make plans for what countries I visit next. And it would be good for my health. I gotta admit, I've been feeling a little weary lately, and a nice hot bath would be fantastic._

_The apartment is small but tidy, and I'm crashing on a futon in the corner of the main room/kitchen. The only other rooms are Jimmy's and the bathroom, and a good sized closet. But neither of us has many belongings, so it isn't bad._

_The shop is really nice. I mean, really nice. It's not like some big retailer store. It feels like...Hell. It feels like the pet shop. It doesn't reek of that incense, and it doesn't have all the squacking and chattering of animals, but it's plush. It's wall to wall with books, and any space in between is covered in drapes and artwork. It has the whole 'old-time' feel, without feeling stuffy. Hell, with a guy like Jimmy in charge, there is no way a place could feel stuffy. He's one of the most candid and welcoming people I know. He also has the wildest and dirtiest mouths this side of the planet. And I've been around, I know. This is definitely not your grandma's bookstore. If anything, it feels like a place where hippies would come and smoke pot in the back late at night. But I definitely don't smell pot. Just tobacco. Oh sweet Jesus, that's right, Jimmy is a smoker! I can bum a few 'fags' (I nearly choked to death on a piece of gum the first time I heard anyone say that!) Sweet. Hot bath followed by smokes. Heaven._

_Well, I'm certainly getting good at deviating. Back to the bookstore. The front has the bestsellers, but in the back, THAT is the interesting bit. It's where he's keeping those collectible books he was talking about. He said he's been going to flea markets and picking up any old and crazy stuff he can find. He has a back room where he can do a little repair work on them if he thinks they need it and it won't damage their value. There are lot of books on UK history, novels, mythology, astrology or astronomy...I'm not sure which is which. But, there's a lot of old and crazy shit. I'm gonna look through anything that might have information about, well, whatever might be good for learning about D. There must be SOMETHING here. I can try the library too while I'm in London. I haven't been to one of those in...well, a long time._

_Jimmy said he wanted to take me out for a drink tonight. I'm gonna get settled now and head out. I hope my good luck holds up. Maybe there will be some pretty faces at the pub._

_~ Leon_

* * *

A/N: I bet I scared you with the previous journal being so short! But here you can see, there is more stuff happening. London is going to be a fun place for Leon. Please keep reading!_  
_


	16. June 5, 1999

_June 5, 1999_

_London, I love you. I really, really, reeeeeally love you._

_I have not felt this good in years. Well. Today. Yesterday, I had a crazy hangover. But luckily, the lovely lady that Mr. Leon Orcot had brought home was gone early enough to miss any of the not-so-attractive aftereffects of binge drinking. Uhuh, that's right. I hooked up. Aw yeah! Insert manly victory pose here!_

_I actually don't remember too much. But Jimmy filled in for the lapses in my memory. He took me to the Horse and Groom pub in the West End on Thursday. It's a nice place. Old fashion, polished woodwork all over. It's completely decked out in a horse motif...of course. (Damn, I'm terrible.)_

_The place gave me flashbacks to that time Count D and I went to the race track to watch that deaf horse and whatshername. God, that was one awkward day: me cooped up in a sitting box alone with the Count. It seriously didn't help that all the other people around us were couples. I'm pretty sure D did that on purpose to catch me off guard. Jerk. He loved to push my buttons._

_You know, I'm actually GLAD that bastard tricked me into helping him rig that race. If it has all been him, I'd have arrested him on the spot, and taken him into custody. And then I'd have had to explain to the guys at the station why and where I'd been hanging out with D...and damn, it might not have been as bad at the time D took me to the ballet, but it certainly wouldn't have helped._

_Wow, D really is an ass. He's not even here and he's still distracting me from talking about how awesome Thursday night was. After a few pints and chips, a group of girls joined the party. Jimmy apparently knew a few of them, so he waved them over, and introduced me. Man, they were all babes, too! And they were all curious about "Jimmy's American friend", and I gladly asked any questions they had. I was in the zone. A shower, shave, and a few drinks had left me pretty confident. Jimmy told me afterward that I'd started showing off my bullet wound scars as the night got older. But most importantly, I managed to impress a lovely lady by the name of Chrissy Melborne._

_I cannot believe my luck the last few days. Chrissy is drop dead gorgeous. She has long dark curly hair and big, big brown eyes, bright red lips, and a smoking body. She ended up coming back to Jimmy's flat with us, and another one of Jimmy's lady friends. Susan Wilkinson? I Think that was her name. She's apparently an on-again-off-again lady friend of Jimmy's...but nothing really serious. Neither seemed to be all that serious about each other. Friends with benefits, I guess. I sure wouldn't mind a 'friend' of my own. Of course, I may have just made myself one._

_What a night! It's still fuzzy, so I can't get into much detail, but Chrissy had some tricks that were amazing. I'm surprised I didn't need a doctor after all the exertion and alcohol. I really thought I needed one for a little while, but I made it through Friday. It was so weird. My head hurt like hell, and I really felt like I had to hurl, but I hadn't felt so good in years. I guess I just really needed to get laid._

_It's not just a sex thing. And I'm not so sentimental as to think there is some sort of emotional connection. That's girly shit. After all, it was just one night of drunken fucking. But it was, I dunno. I guess that just having that physical closeness to someone...it's something I needed. I'd forgotten what it was like, I think. It's comforting. Heheh, I definitely wouldn't mind a little more 'comfort' in the next few days. I'll give Chrissy a call._

_Jimmy showed me the ropes around the shop today. (Little things like running the cash register, organization, etc.) He needed to know I can handle myself on my own, eventually. He's only got two other employees: Jacob Tripp and Wesley Morris. They were at the pub the other night too, but hell if I know what happened to them after Jimmy and I took off. Jacob is basically Jimmy's assistant manager. He's a lot like Jimmy, if you cleaned up the language a bit. He's pretty burly too, I wouldn't want to go up against him in a fight. But he's a pleasant guy. Makes me think of Little John in that cartoon version of Robin Hood. Wesley is a skinny little university student. Pretty nerdy, but he's funny in that geeky sort of way. Nice kid. I hope things go well for him._

_I got a better look at the back room in the shop this morning. It's really piled with old, dusty books. Jimmy said that since I wanted to study them I could spend a lot of my work days helping him sort through and catalog them while I was at it. He also said I could bring books to to the apartment after hours to study too. I'm really grateful for what Jimmy's doing for me. I'll have to find a way to repay him. I'll just have to work hard until I figure out how._

_I hope my luck holds up. Things haven't gone this well for me in years. It's enough to make me worry that it might come crashing down without warning. But there's no sense in wasting time worrying. Time to get to work. Then maybe later, I'll have some time for more 'play'._

_~ Leon_

* * *

**A/N:** Hey everyone! Sorry about the wait. It would have been up sooner, but I had work and I had to iron out the kinks for the London arc of this story. (Yes, Arc. I have a whole story plot planned around London. It's a nice change from the random entries that don't always go anywhere. ^_^) This chapter isn't as long as I had hoped it would be, but I expect to have one or two more chapters up by tomorrow evening, so you shouldn't be left wanting too much. The actual writing of these chapters aren't too time consuming, but I'm actually taking pains to look up the areas I'm writing about, and the pop culture events that were going on, and even down to the weather on the days I'm writing about. I've never left the USA, so I have very little knowledge about Europe. Google maps and Wikipedia are my best friends. And so are tourist guides. The Horse and Groom is an actual pub in the West End, and I chose it because of the Horse Race chapter of the comic. ^_^ Yay for learning things!


	17. June 10, 1999

_June 10, 1999_

_Wow, the last five days have been busy. And I mean BUSY, heheh. In between working the shop, which actually has a lot of people coming in and out all the time, and trying to gather up information about...whatever it is that might help me find D, Chrissy has been showing up every afternoon, after my shift. Man, I'm getting tired out._

_It's crazy. I don't know if this girl is coming off the rebound or what, but she seems to be completely insatiable. She's pretty good at holding back when I'm on the clock, so it's not getting in the way of business, but afterward: watch out! I'll be going through books in the back, I'll get started organizing my notes and soon she's gotten her way back there, and she'll do this thing where she just comes up behind me and starts nuzzling my neck, and damn if that doesn't get me going. I end up throwing aside my work and before you know it—well, you know. Finding D may be important, but I'm not DEAD. I just came off one hell of a dry spell and I'll be damned if I pass up this opportunity._

_Apparently, Chrissy is new in town. She really only met Susan a couple of days before meeting me at the pub. Chrissy doesn't say much about herself, just that she's new, she doesn't know many people in the area, and that she's glad to have made some friends here. I think she might have said that she'd just moved back to England from Germany...but really, I'm not sure I heard correctly. I seem to forget stuff when she's around. I'd have asked more questions, but whenever it comes up, she starts doing her thing again, and really there's not much talking going on after that. At least no intelligent conversation._

_I'm going to have to demand a night off from her. Not because I don't want it, and it's not getting old, or anything like that. But I REALLY need to get down to business on the D situation. I don't want to hurt her feelings, though. Maybe I can get her to help me out. It wouldn't hurt to have an extra set of eyes going through all those books. I'm not exactly sure how to go through all this hocus pocus bullshit. But girls are into that kinda stuff, right? All those horoscopes and fortune telling—they can't get enough of it. But at the same time, I don't want to tell her too much about the situation...I mean, I already think I'm a bit messed up in the head over D. The only person who knows anything about what I'm doing is Jimmy. And I haven't told him about the really crazy shit. What would they think if I started talking about flying boats, and talking human-animal things?_

_I've got to have a cover story, that's for sure. Perhaps I can say I'm writing a book? Oh, who the Hell am I kidding? I don't look like the author type. I'm not in school, so I can't say it's for a project. Speaking of being in school, maybe Wesley would like to give me a hand too? He's actually studying botany, so sci-fi crap is hardly his area of expertise, but I'm sure he'd know a few good tips on doing research. More importantly, the kid doesn't get out much, and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't mind an excuse to hang out with a hottie. I think I've caught him checking Chrissy out a few times. I don't think he knows how to talk to girls, actually, so this would be a good experience for him. Helping a brother out is always acceptable._

_That's it! Bros before hos. The creed of every American male. And I'm hoping it's a Brit thing too. I'd hate it if cultural boundaries got in the way of my sex life. But Wesley could use the eye candy, and besides that I'm doing this to find Count D. And despite his feminine appearance and manners, D is still a 'Bro'. Technically. Sort of._

_Actually, there's another bro. My actual bro, Chris. I'm doing this for him too. He needs to know what happened to D as much as I do. Man, I'm really getting selfish here. I mean, it's Chris's picture that I'm returning to the Count. Damn it. I can't believe what I'm turning into. I feel really guilty now._

_It's official, I'm telling that woman that I'm doing this for my little brother back in New York. It's honest. It's for Chris. Frankly, I'll feel better telling the truth. I've always hated lying. I would have been a lousy law enforcer if I didn't. Besides, what girl wouldn't melt at the idea of a guy being a 'family man'?_

_Wow, I'm going to run out of paper in this notebook soon. Good thing I'm in a book store. They sell journals here too. I have a feeling that I'll be filling up a lot of these books during this search. I need to refocus my thoughts. I can't keep going on about women in these journals. It takes up a lot of space and it won't help the situation. I started writing in this thing to gather my thoughts on D. I need to get my head out of the clouds. I can't let a woman slow me down. Time to get to work._

_~ Leon_


	18. June 16, 1999

_June 16, 1999_

_I had a dream last night. It was dark, and at first I thought it must be the middle of the night, but soon I realized that there were no stars shining, and I had been walking a long time with no obstacles in my path. I didn't see any walls. In fact. it was so dark that I couldn't see my feet, or even tell what kind of ground I was walking on. It was dead quiet. I couldn't even hear my own footsteps. It was like I was in some sort of void, where my feet were supported but nothing seemed to be beneath me._

_I called out, "Hello!" I didn't even hear an echo._

_I kept walking for a long time. Suddenly there was a small light in the distance. I sped up, running towards it. It felt like hours before I reached it, a candle perched on one of those tall freestanding candle sticks. Like something you'd see in a church. The flame itself was a tiny thing ad I wondered how far away I'd been to have seen it. I couldn't judge my distance by anything but the time it took to run there. But time and space didn't seem to match up here._

_I don't know why, but I reached out to touch the flame. It wasn't hot. It wasn't cold...it was like it wasn't there. I stayed like that for a moment, playing with the flame. It moved and flickered as my fingers passed through it, but I didn't feel anything. Without warning, the flame grew hot, and I slapped the fire away, startled. I knocked the candlestick over and when it fell, instead of the fire extinguishing, it burned hot than ever, and flames surrounded me in large circle, trapping me. The heat was incredible, and I thought I was going to die. I turned around, looking for a way out._

_Behind me, there was a figure with dark hair and dressed in Chinese robes. D. He was facing away from me. I shouted his name and grabbed him by the shoulder, forcing him to look at me. I wanted to see his face. I wanted to scream at him._

_His eyes were unfocused, like he didn't see me. I shook him, demanding he answer me. I screamed at him, asking where Hell he'd been, why he'd left, why he kept running from me. I shook him so hard that his head whipped back and forth, his hair swaying into his face. The something fell to the ground. Something had been covering his face. A mask. Not a mask. His face. I looked back at him. Where his face should have been there was nothing but blank flesh. It frightened me and I let him go. His body crumpled to the ground, and whatever was supporting my feet gave way. I was falling, screaming, and then I was under water. Cold and soothing any heat from the fire. I found I could stand and my head emerged from the water. I was standing in the ocean, maybe 30ft from the shore. The sun was bright and it hurt my eyes, then I felt everything start to tremble._

_It was Jimmy, shaking me awake. He had heard me yelling and was worried. He told me I should take it easy today. I'd been working to hard._

_He's right. Since I told Chrissy that I needed to focus on my work, she and I and Wesley have been burning the candle at both ends. Despite their help, but I feel like I haven't made much progress at all. We've gone through the mythical creature books, and I've made note of any creatures that sounded like the things in D's shop. But that doesn't really help tell me where he might be. They've helped me try and look through Chinese folklore, and even folk medicine, at Wesley's suggestion. Like I said, he's studying botany. Of course he'd think of spiritual teas and crap to look up—when he isn't ogling Chrissy, at least. Seriously, it's like the kid has never seen a girl before. At least he has good taste._

_I still haven't gone into too much detail about my search. I might have to tell them more if I want to make any progress whatsoever. I did ask them to look up myths about human-like creatures from ancient China. Chrissy jumped right on that task. I told Wesley that if he could find any information about creatures having to do with plants, that would be good. At the end, D and his family all had crazy vines growing out of them...and that baby...it was born like some sort of pea from a pod. So weird._

_None of us have found anything yet. I was really hoping to have found something by now. Especially with both Chrissy and Wesley helping. Sometimes it seems like when I think I've found something important, I lose my concentration. It doesn't help that I lost a few pages of notes the other day. I have no idea where I left them, and I feel like I've looked everywhere. I'll just have to keep at it._

_~Leon_

* * *

A/N: This chapter and the next were originally part of the same entry. I felt that there was too much going on, and I divided them. So, yay, two chapters instead of one!_  
_


	19. June 18, 1999

_June 18, 1999_

_I've only gone to Chinatown a handful of times since I arrived in London. The usual stuff didn't get me anywhere. But today, with Jimmy towing me along, we actually found ourselves in an old Chinatown antique shop, looking for more odd books to add to the collection._

_It was creepy. It was stuffy. And there was this old guy manning the store. He was wearing Chinese style clothes, and he had a thick Chinese accent when he spoke to us. I was really having a tough time understanding him, because it wasn't just a Chinese guy with an accent speaking English, it was a Chinese guy with an accent speaking British English. Blimey. He conducted business with Jimmy normally enough, but then he saw me and seemed to falter. It was only for a second, but as a Detective I made my living by being able to read people._

_While Jimmy took a look through some of the Chinese guy's newer arrivals, I decided to speak with him. I gave a simple "Hey, how are you?" and he managed a simple "I'm fine thank you" response, but otherwise looked like he was avoiding my stare. So, I asked why. I never expected the answer he gave me._

_"It would be wrong of me to stare into the eyes of one who has been in the presence of gods."_

_After a moment of shocked silence, I lost it. I asked/shouted at him what he meant by that. Poor guy was scared out of his skull. I backed off a bit, and apologized. I asked him, please, I needed to know what he was talking about. I needed to know if he could help me. I need to know if he knew where to find D._

_He was nearly crying. He said that he didn't know anything. He said that I smelled like them._

_That caught my attention. I asked what he meant. He said he could smell their scent. Then I realized that I had my backpack with me. I always brought it with me when I went to Chinatown. I opened my bag and pulled out a stick of incense._

_Yeah, that's right. Kept some of that ridiculous smelly crap that D used to burn constantly. I, uh, nicked it...after the toxin reports came back negative. As much as I hated breathing it in back when I was in Los Angeles...after D left, I didn't want to forget it. So I held on to a handful of sticks, to remind me of the smell. I know, its silly. But on those nights, when I was alone and trying to save money by sleeping in a box, it was the only comfort I had. It's one of the few tangible reminders of my time with D._

_The shopkeeper told me that he didn't know the man in the Berlin photo. He said the only reason he knew the smell, was that he once met another man who'd been in the god's presence, when he was a small child in China. His mother had punished him when he became too nosy about the stranger. But he always remembered the sweet aroma surrounding the him. He said his mother had warned him never to disrespect the guest of a god. It was an insult to the god itself._

_I apologized to the man, for scaring him. I said it was OK to look at me. Then I asked if he had a name for the being I was looking for. Unfortunately, he said he didn't have a name. Fat lot of good that did me. But I was still glad that someone around here at least had an inkling of what I was looking for. I asked him to keep an eye out for anyone matching the guy in the picture, and gave him Jimmy's phone number in case. I said I'd contact him occasionally after I left town. I also gave him a stick of incense for his trouble. He was floored at that. He kept bowing and thanking me, saying that there was no greater honor I could bestow upon him...I felt really awkward. He told me that burning that incense would doubtlessly bring good fortune to his establishment, and he would do his best to repay me. He said I could call him Zheng Guang. I asked that, in addition to giving me information about the D's, if he could help me with my Chinese studies. He gladly agreed._

_I might not have found any new information this week. But I guess I've made a new ally. And that's enough to keep me going, for now._

_~ Leon_


	20. June 21, 1999

**June 21, 1999**

_I found my notes today. The ones I misplaced. They were hidden underneath some flowerpot that Wesley had been keeping on a windowsill in the backroom. Wesley found them when he lifted the plant to check it's water. Someone put them there. Wesley says he thinks maybe he grabbed the papers by accident, leaving them underneath the last time he checked the water. I don't buy it. The notes were folded too neatly, too deliberately for it to have been an honest mistake. My only other suspects are Jimmy, Jacob, and Chrissy. Jacob has next to no clue what's going on. Jimmy...I can't imagine he'd randomly hide important information from me like that. Why would he? He's been nothing but helpful since I arrived here. So that just leaves Chrissy._

_Damn. And I was having such a good morning before this too. Chrissy and I had another nice night together, and I was feeling really refreshed. Then Wesley went to water his plant and everything went sour. I was distracted all through my shift at the store, trying to dissect all the information, hoping to unravel the mystery. I would confront Chrissy the next time I saw her. She'd disappeared that morning. She usually did. She always came back after my shift though. So I waited until after my shift._

_I didn't hear her come in. Actually, I've never heard her enter a room. I'm always surprised to look up, and there she is. Odd. Why haven't I noticed it till now? I think I've been ignoring all the odd things surrounding her. It was more convenient._

_She looked nervous when I saw her. She said that she ran into Wesley, and he'd told her that he found the notes. She was trying to act innocent. But I didn't buy it, I was furious. I demanded to know why the fuck she did it. I scared her. She started crying. I didn't care. How DARE she meddle with my search! Does she even slightly understand how important this is to me? That's when I realized: yes. Yes she does. She knows EXACTLY what this means to me. She knows everything. I demanded that she tell me where D was. I knew he sent her. I wanted to know what his game was._

_Wesley came in then, and stood between us, insisting that it had to have been his mistake, and to not blame Chrissy. God, does the kid really have it THAT bad for her? I'll give him credit; he was being chivalrous, if stupid._

_I told Chrissy to be gone by the time I got back. That was a few hours ago._

_I really don't know how I feel right now. I feel...betrayed isn't the word I'd assign to it. Chrissy may have been really fun, and god I needed the company, but...really, what reason did I have to trust her to begin with? Just another one of D's tricks, pulling me in, I guess. Asshole._

_Why do I bother looking for you? I trusted you. I confided in you. And I thought, however briefly and secretly, that you trusted me too. If anyone betrayed me it was you. It's getting late. I should go to sleep..but I really can't right now. Maybe I'll take a walk first._

* * *

_Fucking hell. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfucking HELL. Bloody Hell. Every manner of swear to describe Hell imaginable._

_So I went for a walk to clear my head. I didn't even pay attention to where I was headed. I just know that I'd been walking for a while and ended up in some little park a couple miles from Jimmy's shop. It was really dark...the lights from the street didn't really reach where I decided to sit on the ground . There was just a few slivers of light from the street lamps lining the road, peeking through some of the gaps in the trees that I was sitting under. Worked for me. I wanted to be as alone as possible, and right then even the light felt intrusive. Fuck._

_I don't know how long I sat there, but just as I was considering heading back to the apartment, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around to see what it was, but before I even saw it, I heard "Now, now Detective, no need to get up for me."_

_It was D's voice! I sprung to my feet, and faced him, read to yell or hit or...whatever it is I was ready to do. I don't know what I was thinking. Whatever I was planning, it didn't matter. I saw the cloaked figure and I said:_

_"You're Count D. The actual one. Not my D."_

_I don't really know how I feel about Grandad. Our last meeting was brief, and I was half dead at the time, and before that the guy was masquerading as a little ...bat...bunny...thing, with horns...D called him Q-chan. Even D didn't know it was his grandfather in disguise until the very end. I could tell it disturbed D to learn the truth._

_"Your D?" he smiled. "You say that as if you have some sort of claim to him."_

_"You sent Chrissy," I accused. "What is she?"_

_He just waved it off, and said it wasn't important. To be fair, it really isn't, I guess. All I need to know is that her whole purpose was to get in my way. To distract me from my goal. Wow, there's a blow to my ego. She didn't give a damn about me, she was just doing her job. Pathetic. Am I really the kind of guy that you can throw a girl in front of and I'll just roll over like a cat with a ball of yarn? I feel so ashamed right now._

_What's worse is that he went on to tell me that it wasn't just Chrissy. He's orchestrated everything that's happened here in London, like my running into Jimmy the moment I arrived. This guy's been stalking me for months! Years! Hell, maybe even since the moment D left. Fuck. I asked him exactly why he was trying to get in my way._

_The smile he flashed me in response was downright threatening._

_"I don't want you coming anywhere near my grandchild."_

_I guess that was the long and short of it._

_I was too human, he told me. Human. It's the reason D pushed me off that ship. I wasn't allowed. But who made those rules? Some ancestor of D who died thousands of years ago? It's not fair._

_He told me to stop trying to defy the will of gods. I'd only upset the balance—not that humans fucking up was anything new. He said I was being selfish, that I'd only cause myself and others pain. He told me that this was a friendly warning._

_I yelled then. I hollered that he couldn't stop me. He'd have to kill me, like his son had tried and failed to do over two years ago. But god damn it, I'd live through it again, with or without D's help, just so I could find his grandson._

_He called me stubborn, and that he'd see me again. Then he seemed to disappear into the shadows. He was gone before I could stop him. The D family really seems to love running off on you._

_If he thinks I'm intimidated, he's wrong. If anything, I'm more determined than ever. Nothing will stop me._

* * *

A/N: So, Grandfather makes his appearance. In case you were wondering: You may have noticed that I did not use the term Sofu D. I also do not use the word Kami. This is because those terms do not exist in the English language adaption of PSOH. It is convenient for fans to label the various Count D's as such, but I found it inappropriate for Leon to use these terms-where would he know them from? Those are Japanese terms, and ironically, despite it being a manga/anime, neither Leon nor D speak 'Japanese' in the story. It's either English or Chinese. (ShinPSOH excluded) _So,_ generally, I will simply had Leon say grandfather and father as it is the literal translation._  
_


End file.
